


The Art of a Sleepy Morning

by larajeansong



Category: Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: (takes place after soc), Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Post-Canon, there is like nothing violent in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:52:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larajeansong/pseuds/larajeansong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nina closed her mouth. "Nothing," she said, tilting her head. The shock on her face smoothed itself out into bemusement. "I just didn't think you'd be wearing that. Did you run out of clothes?"</i>
</p><p>  <i>Wylan looked down at the shirt he'd grabbed, then realized it was not his. He flushed bright red.</i></p><p>In which Wylan wears Jesper's shirt, the two maybe-kind-of hold hands, and the others take notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of a Sleepy Morning

**Author's Note:**

> There is not enough Six of Crows fanfic out there, and I consider it a small outrage that the Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck only has seven fanfics. So here's my little contribution.
> 
> This takes place in some hovering space after Six of Crows, where the five are traveling, there's no Inej (since, y'know, she's been kidnapped), and the gang has stopped at some random inn while their plans after formulating.

Sometime after Wylan's resemblance to Kuwei began to fade and he lost a noticeable amount of height, Jesper stayed out one night for an extended round of gambling.

Wylan usually slept on a straw mat on the floor of the hallway, since there were only three rooms available and he'd nobly volunteered to be one of the roomless ones.  Nina, who was almost as noble despite her newly hollow eyes and shaking hands, offered to share a room with Matthias. Kaz just shrugged and nodded. Wylan tried to waggle his eyebrows at her and failed.

However, by eleven PM, Nina and Matthias were already snoring away—or doing something else, but Wylan was not going to think about that, nope, nope—and Kaz said, "Since Jesper is probably busy chasing the cards, you might as well take his room."

Wylan frowned. 

"He'll be fine, trust me," said Kaz, as if there was a single person in the world who would consider it a good idea to trust Kaz Brekker. "He's done this before."

They weren't in Ketterdam, though. Jesper could get lost. Some stranger who didn't know him well enough to be scared of his reputation could be lying in wait, a knife in hand. Jesper could get roaringly drunk, then stagger off a bridge with no irritated friend to drag him back home or make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. One of Wylan’s dad’s minions could appear out of thin air and whisk him away like they had Inej.

"Or you can sit out here," Kaz said when Wylan hadn’t said anything after several enormous seconds. "I don't care, but decide fast. Otherwise, I'll tell Matthias and Nina they can split."

"They wouldn't take the offer," mumbled Wylan.

Kaz didn't respond to that comment.

The problem with sitting there with Kaz was that Kaz hadn't been sleeping much lately, and he would probably be there for hours yet, if he slept at all. He’d taken to staring out the window with his scheming face on. And Wylan did _not_ want to sit out there for hours with Kaz, stewing in annoyed and awkward silence. Also, he could already sense his eyelids drooping.

"Fine," he said, turning to head up the stairs. "Thanks." 

* * *

 They'd stopped at a comfortable inn for once—miles better than the herring horror they'd suffered through before the Ice Court heist—and sometimes, just sometimes, if a place was extravagant-looking enough, it reminded him of his own home. Shuffling servants, a master greedy for coin, and wood everywhere—there was a definite resemblance.

Jesper had landed a nice, soft twin bed, easily the smallest of the three available, but also the most comfortable. It wasn't home, but the scent was clean enough.

So maybe that was why when Wylan woke up in the morning, he'd forgotten it that fact. The murmur of voices filtered from downstairs, soft and indistinct. Sunlight poured through the windows and left the bedsheets luxuriously warm compared to the wintry temperatures he'd suffered through in Fjerda. Trying to rub away the drowsiness in his eyelids and failing, he rummaged around in his closet, looking for something to wear. He snagged the first shirt he found and pulled it on before heading downstairs, lured by the scent of eggs and bacon. When was the last time he'd had bacon?

He floated into the common room, his eyes still half-closed in pursuit of breakfast. He couldn't sense his father anywhere nearby, and he didn't want to open his eyes to check. Wylan could let himself drift in bliss for a few extra minutes before his father's voice cut in and shattered it.

There was a choking noise.

Wylan's eyes snapped open in alarm. Nina sat at the table, a spoonful of scrambled eggs halfway to her open mouth. She'd half-twisted in her chair to bid him good morning.

He frowned as he realized he wasn't in his father's house after all, but it wasn't as horrible a realization as he expected. He hardly wanted to return, no matter what situation he was currently trapped in. Nina was certainly preferred to his father, anyway. "What's wrong?"

Nina closed her mouth. "Nothing," she said, tilting her head. The shock on her face smoothed itself out into bemusement. "I just didn't think you'd be wearing that. Did you run out of clothes?"

Wylan looked down at the shirt he'd grabbed, then realized it was not his. He flushed bright red.

It wasn't a terrible fit, but if anyone took a look at him, they'd assume it was either stolen or a hand-me-down from a much, much larger relative. It hung loose about his shoulders, exposing most of his collarbone, and the hem fell several inches past his waist. Hardly scandalous—but very odd.

"It's, um, I." He reached for the hem, about to tuck it into his waistband, then paused when his eyes landed on someone slumped in the corner. "Jesper's back?"

The figure raised their head, revealing themselves to indeed be Jesper. There were circles under his eyes that had deepened a bit overnight, but his expression was clear. He must not be hungover, then. 

"Merchling," he rasped. "If you're going to steal someone's clothes, you shouldn't show up wearing them in front of the person you robbed." 

"It was an accident," Wylan blurted.

Nina raised an eyebrow. "You put Jesper's shirt on by accident." 

"I didn't realize it was his." 

"I see how it looks exactly like one of your clothes," she said as she swallowed the spoonful of eggs.

Aside from the size, the shirt was plain, slightly stained grey, nothing unusual. Really, if it weren't so big, it could be anyone's. Wylan mustered a feeble glare.

"It's all right," Jesper said, a shadow of a smile gracing his face. "You don't need to be sorry."

Was _sorry_ how Wylan looked? He backed away a bit, twisting to head back up the stairs. "I'll change into one of my own," he said over his shoulder. "I promise I didn't get it dirty or—"

"Don't bother," Jesper said with a yawn. Wylan turned back around as he rose to his feet and stretched with the grace of a cat, his long limbs corded with ropy muscle. The shirt he was wearing today was too short, and it rode up, exposing his stomach. Wylan's mouth suddenly felt very, very dry. 

"It's all right," Jesper repeated, this time with a decidedly feline glint in his eye. "Besides, you look pretty cute in it."

That remark combined with the grin Nina hid with the back of her spoon was enough to make Wylan want to pass out. It was a testament to his strength that he didn't. Instead, he straightened and said, "Well, then you won't get to see me take my shirt off, but thanks."

Jesper arched an eyebrow as Wylan sat down at the table. "Not right now, maybe," he returned. "But I'm sure you could spare some time later."

Nina was still giggling by the time Kaz and Matthias showed up and helped themselves to plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. Neither of them commented on Wylan's wardrobe, and he didn't think they would. However, Kaz did look up from his food to give Jesper a nod of acknowledgment.

"You're back," he said. There were no allusions to gambling. "Good to know you survived the night."

Nina murmured, "Especially good for Wylan to know." 

Wylan resisted the urge to threaten her with his fork, knowing that she would have reason to literally crumple up his heart the moment he tried. 

"Yes, actually," Kaz said, nodding to her. His face was blank. "Wylan missed you." 

The shit-eating grin Jesper aimed his way was a horror, not to mention the _thank you_ he all but cooed.

This was why he was never going to trust Kaz Brekker, Wylan decided as he stabbed his fork into a strip of bacon. Jesper wouldn't stop grinning. Wylan didn't even need to look to check. And since Jesper sat at the corner of table, no one saw his hand wrap around Wylan's.

Wylan was more proud than he should have been that he didn't drop his fork. 

It wasn't as if he'd never had a crush or kissed someone or held hands with a partner, _definitely_ not, except that it was difficult not to be on edge every minute of the day about every single thing when he'd surrounded himself with murderous criminals—one of whom had just given the hem of his shirt a light tug, not unlike a suggestion.

"Sorry, can I excuse myself—"

"No," said Kaz, whose expression hadn't changed. "We have a briefing."

"I really need to pee," Wylan blurted.

"I'll take ten minutes," Kaz said as he polished off the rest of his eggs.

Jesper was still looking at Wylan. They were holding hands and nobody could see and Wylan _needed_ to be somewhere else right now.

Also, Nina sat on his other side. If she glanced over and slightly downwards—

"Okay, fine," Wylan mumbled as his eyes drifted shut, and laid his head down on Jesper's shoulder. Despite the sharpshooter's casual posture, his muscles were strung with tension. Good to know he was nervous, too, because Wylan wanted him to suffer. "If you won't let me, I deserve a little rest." 

There was a silence in which he half-expected Kaz to be bringing his cane down on Wylan's bare collarbone for the disrespect. When nothing happened, he blinked and saw everyone at the table staring back. 

"Fine," said Kaz, and for the first time in probable weeks, Wylan could see him restraining a smile. "So here's the plan."


End file.
